


Cursed Collection

by demonfox38



Series: DLC from DF38 [21]
Category: Castlevania: Harmony of Despair, Vampire Killer | Castlevania: Bloodlines, 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series, 悪魔城ドラキュラ 闇の呪印 | Castlevania: Curse of Darkness
Genre: Friendship, Prompt Fill, Training, Vampirism, World War II, wet t-shirt contest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23344780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonfox38/pseuds/demonfox38
Summary: Did you want a little bit of "Castlevania III"? How about some "Portait of Ruin"? Heck, I'll even throw in a wet t-shirt contest. (A joint collection of "Castlevania" fics from my Tumblr account that don't have quite enough entries to make their own stories.)
Series: DLC from DF38 [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677937
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	1. Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was requested by bise-bise-bise on March 31st, 2016 at Tumblr.

He watched Father and Son consult in the hallway, his nose pinched and turned up.

That worthless little worm wasn’t worth their lord’s time. He was spineless. The only time he would defend the castle was if hunters were beating on the castle’s front door, pitchforks and torches in hand. He never led an offense outside of his father’s halls. Even an Alura Une, rooted to the ground, was more eager about attacking those mindless wretches in the villages around the castle than he was.

Apparently, his mother’s death wasn’t enough. If that didn’t spur him to action, then what ever would? He couldn’t even be relied on as a motivator for the troops. Oh, sure, the demons wanted to protect his pretty little face. He was their prince, after all. But what good was his mutant beauty? It wasn’t like he was sharing it—letting any of them enjoy it. All he did was sit around and pout. Poor humans this, poor humans that, poor little people that didn’t know any better.

Despicable. All of them.

“Pining for attention, are you, Isaac?”

The red-tempered knight snapped on his heels. He snarled at his companion. Hector was trying to bait him out again. He shot a look over his shoulder, then grabbed Hector’s. Both men trudged down the hall, away from the vampire and his child. Doors to a green study flew open as Isaac threw both himself and his comrade inside. It was only when he was out of earshot that Isaac breathed his fire.

“You just couldn’t wait for me to return to our quarters, could you?” Isaac seethed. “You just had to goad me in front of them!”

Hector turned his head away. “I meant you no trouble, Isaac. Your mouth makes enough for you.”

A bitter laugh split Isaac’s teeth. If Hector wasn’t such a talented fighter and forge master, Isaac would have cleaved him between the shoulder blades. It would have been a shame, too. Those amongst Dracula’s ranks were not nearly as charming to look at as Hector. No, the beautiful were few and far between. Hector, himself, that snobby, bratty prince—

He fumed again.

Hector sighed. “Your jealousy will be the end of you yet.”

“Jealous? Me?” Isaac swatted the suggestion away. “I am not jealous of any frivolous, useless, haughty little peacock.”

His ears burned as Hector whistled. “He turned you down again, didn’t he?”

“I’ll have you know that my enmity with him is strictly professional!” Isaac snapped. “I plan one attack, and that mewling mama’s boy starts going, ‘But this will harm a white witch’s wood!’ or ‘But children go to school there!’ or ‘But that is sacred ground!’ Bah! What do we care about what is sacred?”

“Holy ground does dampen our powers,” Hector pointed out.

Narrow eyes burned yellow. “Don’t you take his side.”

Hector raised his hands. He backed off, taking his time to peruse a dusty bookshelf. Isaac grumbled again, then threw himself into the nearest seat. One leather-clad leg sailed over the other, squeezing tightly together as Isaac’s temper ruffled. Lightning flashed across his bitter pout, rain beating against stone trim and glass. Squealing bats bolted from the rafters, panicked. Their screams brought a sadistic, joyful thought to Isaac’s mind. He stared at the window, smiling at his own reflection.

His companion caught wind of his devious plan before he could air it. “You can’t throw Alucard out of the windows.”

“Who’s stopping me?” Isaac simpered.

“For one, Dracula. I doubt you’d live another minute after trying something like that.” Hector put his book back, sighing at Isaac’s scheming. “For another, Alucard himself. He is a shapeshifter, after all. He’d probably just turn into a bat and fly away.”

“Cheater,” the redhead growled. “I bet that’s not his real hair color, either.”

Hector’s laughter broke his moping. “You _are_ jealous, you lying cat.”

“I am not! I hate that brat!” Isaac slammed his fists into the chair, his heels cracking against the wooden floors. “I hate his hair and his face and his whiny little voice and his tiny waist and his—”

“Scratch that,” Hector sighed. “I’ve met cats less catty than you are.”

Isaac sneered at Hector. If his friend didn’t have such a pretty face, he would have mauled it.


	2. Burs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a prompt from GreenHat97 on Tumblr. It was originally posted on July 13th, 2018.

Even the thickness of his gloves wasn’t enough to escape their sting. Alucard hissed, ears twitching as he pulled one free from behind their length. Fingers rougher than his own joined in, flicking the snarled thorns aside. They left behind frayed silk, white strands indignant about their treatment, refusing to lay straight once again.

The state of his hair was not nearly as humiliating as the graveled laughter floating past his ears, leaving alcohol-perfumed heat streaked across his skin.


	3. Training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an anonymous request from Tumblr. It was posted on June 28th, 2016.

Trevor grumbled as he flopped onto his back once again. 

Not that he wasn’t used to being on it. He did have a notorious reputation for several poor reasons, after all. He just didn’t like Alucard being the cause of it. In different circumstances? Sure. After a sparring match? Not so much. 

A lean hand reached out for his own. “Once more, Belmont?” 

“No. I think I’m done for the day.” Trevor took Alucard’s hand, then rolled up. He rubbed the back of his head, brown hair sticky with what he hoped was just dirt and sweat. “You really don’t give a guy a break, do you?” 

“Not when they need more practice,” the dhampir sassed back.

Trevor’s eyebrows jabbed down. Who did Alucard think he was, treating Trevor like he was some fresh meat on the frontlines? The Belmont had literally beaten the devil out of the dhampir when they had first met! Okay, so perhaps Alucard had been emaciated since escaping from his father’s castle and was holding back just a teeny, tiny bit, but Trevor had still been the victor. If anything, Alucard need to work on

everything. His fighting. His cooking. His manners. Everything.

Trevor Belmont wasn’t going to take this on his back. 

Well, not without liking it.

“Look.” He stomped before Alucard, staring his stubborn teammate right in the eye. Not easy to do, considering how damn tall the dhampir was. “You wanted to practice with me, and I agreed. This has only been about covering your ass so Daddy doesn’t beat your britches in. Am I right, or what?” 

Alucard’s nose crinkled. “Do you honestly believe you’ll fare any better against Dracula with an attitude like that?”

“What’s doubt going to get me?” Trevor asked. “Just gets everyone’s asses kicked. Yours included.” 

Hair rippled as Alucard snapped. His eyes burned straight through Trevor’s skull. The Belmont didn’t back down. So, he may have gone a little too far in tormenting Alucard. It wasn’t like the year he had spent captive to his father wasn’t enough of a sore wound. Still, he had to keep his tough guy persona up. Grant was counting on him to gut the count. Sypha wanted his revenge, too. Who was Alucard to stand in his way?

Trevor’s posture softened. “Look. You’re smart. Tell me what you think I’m doing wrong.” 

“Other than your attitude, you mean,” Alucard grumbled. 

“You can make as many comments as you’d like on that,” Trevor shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to listen to you.” 

The dhampir went silent. His face relaxed, sharp eyes flicking over Trevor’s body. The anger in him was replaced by something curious. Less of a general’s sneer, more of a scholar’s inquisitive gaze. The storm building between Trevor and his monstrous friend faded. He waited in cooler winds, the tension in his muscles decompressing.

Finally, Alucard shared his thoughts. “Your weapons are primarily long range.” 

“Yeah,” Trevor nodded. “It’s best to keep the ghoulies as far away from me as possible.”

Alucard took one step closer to the Belmont. “They have significant wind-up time.”

Trevor backed away. “Well, I guess. But, I try to compensate by—”

“Do you have time to think, Belmont?” The toe of Alucard’s boots stepped onto Trevor’s. “What about now?” 

The looming dhampir made Trevor shiver. For a couple of positive reasons, yes. For one striking negative one, as well. Alucard was well kempt, good around humans and monsters. He hadn’t asked for so much as a single drop of blood from his companions. But, this close? All he would have to do is lean down and bite. It wouldn’t even take a single second. What good would a whip do that close? What if he didn’t have a dagger or an axe in his hand? 

What if it wasn’t the son standing on his toes, but the father?

Trevor smirked. Now, there was an idea. 

“Do you mind getting off of my toes?” the vampire hunter asked. “You’re pinching them.” 

Alucard’s eyebrows raised. He slid his boots back. “Pardon me. I didn’t mean to—”

A knee to his stomach smashed the words right out of him.

For as tall as he was, the dhampir was a light weight. He skidded backwards, crashing into a stump. Alucard rolled forward. Mud caked his gloves as he tried to stabilize his breathing. Despite the shock, Trevor laughed. Alucard was really a sight to behold, his hair mussed and back coated in mud. He almost seemed human with the wind knocked out of him.

Trevor reached down. “Good?” 

“Impressive,” the dhampir wheezed. “You have remarkable leg strength.” 

“That’s what you get when you hike everywhere.” Trevor hefted the dhampir’s arm onto his shoulder.

Alucard stabilized himself. It wasn’t easy to do, considering how his ego had shattered like glass. “What about your flexibility?” 

“How much of that do I need?” Trevor asked. “All I do is go up and down stairs.” He jogged in place, just to prove his point. “Well, that, and the occasional leap of faith.” 

“We’ll start with flexibility exercises, then,” Alucard nodded. “With a little work, you should be able to react faster and reach higher targets. I would think that would amuse you, would it not? Being able to knock an enemy in the head with your foot?” 

A wicked grin crackled from Trevor. “Now, you’re starting to sound like a coach.” 

“I suppose it’s about time,” Alucard agreed. 

“But, hey! You’re my partner, not my boss.” One rude hand whacked against the dhampir’s rump. “What about you, Mister Fireball? How do you keep the big and mean off your backside when they get a little too close?” 

Alucard bowed his head. His hair couldn’t hide the flustered pull in the corners of his mouth. Trevor smirked again. So, Alucard needed a taste of his own medicine, did he? Well, Trevor was certainly willing to hand it out. After all, practice was no good if his sparring partner didn’t get any tougher. It was as much his job to get Alucard in shape as it was the dhampir’s.

“Here’s what I think,” Trevor offered. “Sword. Shiny sword. Fits the whole prince thing you’ve got going, doesn’t it?” 

The dhampir sighed. “And how are we supposed to afford something like that? It’s not as if I brought my ancestral sword when I fled the castle.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Ancestral sword?” Trevor arched an eyebrow. “Dracula’s got a kick-ass sword?” 

Another wave of embarrassment curled Alucard’s hair. “It was my mother’s. She had been meaning to get me trained in fencing, but—”

“Well, get a stick and get cracking!” Trevor cheered. “We’ve got a sword to steal!”


	4. Nuts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a request from MarkingAtLightSpeed on Tumblr. It was posted on May 19th, 2016. This was collected from a prompt set based on popular absurd quotes from _Kung Pow! Enter the Fist_.

“That’s a lot of nuts!” the thief cackled. 

“Hey. We need these.” Trevor snatched one shell out of his satchel. “They’re cheap, and they’re a good source of protein. This’ll get us through the next three days alone.” 

“Assuming they do not rot in the swamp’s humidity.” More grumbling glopped down Trevor’s shoulder. “They are salty, as well. You humans will be depleting your water supplies faster than normal, eating nothing but that.” 

Grant nudged the gloomy sorcerer away from his friend. “Then do us a favor and go drink from a toad, pal. Save the water for the rest of us!” 

Indignant arrows caught Trevor in the crossfire. He swerved back as Alucard and Grant snapped at each other, teeth and eyes glowing with frustration. Walking with sullen Sypha was a much safer option. He popped another peanut up, then offered it to the mage. Thin fingers swiped it from his palms. With a single pinch, the shell crumbled. There was a soft mumbling of gratitude, though Trevor could barely hear it over his friends’ shouting. 

He groaned again. Did he really have to be the group leader? 

“People! Err—human and sort of human.” Trevor bounced one peanut into Grant’s bandanna. “How about we worry less on who’s eating and drinking what and just keep going? It’s not like we can’t find other things to eat and drink around here.” 

The thief shook the nut from his head. “Always a man for living off the land, aren’t you, Trevor?” 

“I appreciate your resilience, Belmont, but exercising some prudence would aid you.” Alucard’s fangs receded, though his frustration still flashed in his eyes. “Furthermore, insisting that I must drink blood to make amends for poor planning is inhumane. I wish to be treated the same as the rest of you, and to force me into such a vile diet—”

Trevor shut him up with one toss. “Catch.” 

What surprised him was when Alucard did—with those same scary teeth that had his friends so wound up.


	5. Good Parts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a request from InconvenientPlaces on Tumblr. It was published on January 16th, 2016.

Jonathan’s hand was heavy. It sank onto her shoulder, holding her in place. “Wait. Before we go in there, I’ve gotta tell you something. You know. Just in case this all goes south real quick-like.”

Charlotte’s eyes bulged as wide as a goldfish’s. This was it! Jonathan was finally going to drop the act and come clean with her. It was impossible for their relationship to end any other way. They had always been together, and they always would be. Now, Jonathan was bearing his heart, its burden too much for his chest.

She clapped her fingers over his. “What is it?”

“There’s a box under my bed back home. It’s labeled ‘Baseball Cards.” His face went stony. “If I die, take it out to the pasture behind the ranch and burn it.”

That was not the heart-felt declaration of adoration that Charlotte was expecting. “What?” 

“You can’t let my mom look in it!” Jonathan demanded.

Her eyebrows flattened out. “There’s not actually baseball cards in that box, is there?”

Blond hair fell from Jonathan’s head as he slumped. “It’s nudie mags.” 

She booted her friend right into Dracula’s backside.


	6. Blutsauger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was another request regarding experimentation from GreenHat97. Additionally, the challenge was for something horrible to not happen to Alucard. Which, actually, is a challenge for me. (He's just so fun to pick on!)
> 
> This was posted to Tumblr on January 8th, 2016.

"Ich will das," he demanded. "Die Hexe."

Charlotte snapped as the soldier whipped her out of her cell. She stumbled on tattered slippers, feet cutting against debris and ice. An indignant flare burned in her throat. She swallowed her rage. This was not the time to fight. There were innocent people here—too many—and she would not risk hurting them in her crossfire. All she could hope for was Jonathan's safety, the escape of the Lecarde sisters, for the Allied Infantry or spring to come.

She would burn the place down when they could all walk free—when no more lugers were pointed at their heads.

The cold ate through her sparse clothing as she was dragged across the Ilag. The back of her head prickled. Charlotte cursed again. She had never cut her hair once in her life, and now it was shaved down. Something crawled across her scalp, trying to flee from the cold. She could only hope the cold would do her one favor and freeze her lice. If not that, then that one would jump onto the men who were rough handling her again.

She cursed her clumsy feet as she tripped over the metal frame to the labs. If it hadn't been for those damned shoes of hers, she would have made the jump onto the train. All she could remember from the fall was Jonathan's eyes, wide and horrified, and the sudden crash of black pain. She didn't know if he stayed on the train, did something as foolish as try to save her. Tears welled in her eyes. Of course he would have. The twins, too.

Where were they now?

An old man with a square face patted a metal table. "Auf dem tisch. Zieh dich aus."

Charlotte followed the first command, but not the second. Her knuckles were white, her gaze hard. The doctor didn't push her further. She had earned her nickname well before she first flashed fire. He didn't need to examine her body, anyway. Not right now. There was a test he had to do first.

The witch flinched as he produced a red syringe. "What is that?"

The doctor smiled, then tapped the glass of his needle. "Ein Probe."

If that was anything like the English word, she did not want that going into her—

She squeaked as the needle drove into the crook of her left elbow. Fluid pushed into her pierced vein. It flowed cold, creeping up her arm and over her shoulder. The doctor pulled away as the last of it entered her bloodstream, snapping it into a trash bin. He did not bother wrapping her arm in a bandage. Rather, he reclined, legs folded. Waiting.

Charlotte sat up. "What are you waiting for?"

She knew it as soon as her blood froze.

Cold. Cold, cold, cold. Colder than the Ilag. Colder than winter. Colder than anything. It jabbed like needles through her arteries, popped blood vessels as it spread. There was no breathing. No moving. Nothing. Just knives in her heart.

There was no sense of balance left in her. Her body leaned forward, then crashed upon the ground. How she didn't shatter into a thousand icicles, she didn't know. She wanted to cry. All that came were hiccups, little swells of frosty air. Her teeth hurt from her own breath. She could taste blood on her gums.

It tasted a little too good.

"What did you put in me?" Charlotte gasped.

The doctor's smile was sharp. "Blutsaugerblut."

The blood that made her desire more.


	7. Wet T-Shirt Contest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An anonymous posted on Tumblr threw a bucket of water on Soma. I took this in a semi-lewd direction. Posted on February 18th, 2016.
> 
> ...why did Netflix's _Castlevania_ adaptation up the titty on Alucard? I mean, other than the obvious reason.

At first, he thought that shattering sound was his sternum cracking. That had to be blood, warm and trickling down his torso. He glanced down, finding nothing more gruesome than glass shards and water. It was a little painful and irritating, but nothing he couldn't clean up. With a swish of his hand, it all tumbled off his chest.

"And what was that about?" Soma asked.

He received four brisk replies. "Four."

"Four."

"Five."

"Three."

Narrow eyebrows went flat. "Uh

what?"

Red leather wrapped around his neck. Soma groaned as Jonathan grinned in his ear. "Didn't you know?" He patted Soma on his soaked chest. "You've just been drafted into a wet T-shirt contest."

"Are you kidding me?" Soma groaned. 

He expected something better from the ladies. Yoko was like an older sister to him. A little too personal, but not flat out for cheesecake. Shanoa had no interest in the subject, but she still rated away, scrawling with a bored expression into a notepad. Charlotte had the same eagerness as a biologist studying a preserved specimen. The worst of them was the youngest. Maria stared far too long, her quill flicking back and forth rapidly.

Soma grumbled again. She was sketching him.

"So

" the young man muttered. "Four out of what?"

"Ten," Charlotte answered. 

Pale fingers rubbed at his wet chest. "Really? That bad?" 

"Well, it's not your fault, Soma." Yoko tousled the young man's hair. "You're just so skinny."

"Yeah!" Maria chirped. She jabbed at her paper as she punctuated her words. "A good man chest has to be supple. Have the right ratio of squish to boing!" 

Soma stared at her. "You're twelve. Don't talk like that."

"I do what I want, Bad Man," she sassed back.

There it was again. Bad Man. If Arikado—Alucard—whoever he was now didn't stand in her way, she would have shredded him to pieces and fed the soupy remains to her doves. He rubbed his face, trying to get calmed down again. It was difficult, knowing that each of his allies would have killed him in any other circumstance. 

Who knew what was going to happen if he met his old self? Could the space-time continuum stand him kicking his own ass?

Dark eyes settled on the smirking blonde at his side. "So, Jonathan. What did you get?" 

The American shrugged. "Seven."

"Doesn't sound too bad," Soma replied. "Who's leading?" 

Shanoa's reply was automated, blunt. "Both Richter and Julius Belmont are tied at an average of nine points out of ten." 

"They're going to have a Hydro Storm off later!" Maria giggled. "It's going to be amazing!" 

All Soma could do to that was chuckle nervously. "What about Alucard?" 

A shade shifted behind Soma's head. As if on cue, the dhampir stepped from out of the shadows. "Pardon me, but what do you mean—"

Maria was a step before everybody again. She ripped another holy water vial out of Jonathan's pocket, then whipped it into Alucard's chest. The dhampir's face paled, as if he had just been shot point blank. All four ladies studied his confusion, the seeping water trying to eat through his clothing. Three seconds of observation were followed by two irritated groans. 

"I can't see anything," Charlotte complained. 

Shanoa nodded in agreement. "He is wearing too much clothing."

Yoko shook her head. "Trust me. It's a four, tops."

"Ah, that's disappointing!" Maria whined. "I thought future me would have better tastes than that. Like, at least an eight."

Long, sopping hair landed on Soma's shoulder as Alucard turned to face him. "Eight what?"

"Don't ask," Soma sighed.


End file.
